When he handed it over, I held it gently in my palm as if it was a piece of the Beck puzzle. It was his MIT student ID. He was pictured there in a tiny one inch by one inch square. He looked oddly serious. None of the features that made him breathtaking were present: his eye color wasn’t visible due to the shitty picture quality, his dimples were tucked away, and his air of confidence was hidden. It was like looking at his evil twin or something.
Directly under the photo read: Beckham Dilan Prescott— Pet. Engineering Department Access.
Once I’d handed it back to him, we just sat there in silence. None of it added up. Why didn’t he want to be an engineer if he was almost done with his degree?
“ So what are you going to do for a liv—”
He cut me off. “Let’s swim, Abby Mae. S’mores can wait.”
Before I could reply, he went into the tent, zipped it up so I couldn’t see the bottom half of him, and proceeded to change into a bathing suit.
My mouth hung open as my brain tried to catch up with the change of events. I was about to put a gooey marshmallow in my mouth and now I had to put a bathing suit on? I thought about saying that I hadn’t brought a bathing suit, but it was the middle of summer in Texas. He’d call my bluff.
“ Is that water safe to swim in? What if it has a ton of bacteria or something?” I asked, standing up to clean our plates and clear the table.
I heard the tent unzip.
“ Oh, it definitely does, but we’ll be okay. You can trust me, I’m an engineer.” He smiled a quirky grin.
I was about to utter a snarky remark, like “you’re not one yet,” when I finally registered his appearance. He was standing there shirtless with a pair of navy swim trunks resting low on his narrow hips. His smooth pectorals slid into well-defined abs, and suddenly I couldn’t remember what I was meant to be doing.
Did they make petroleum engineers work out? It must have been part of the curriculum.
“ I’ll clean the rest, you go change,” he said, heading toward me. I instinctively took a step back and then did an awkward pivot so that he wouldn’t be standing right next to me. I understand that wasn’t the smoothest thing to do, and I sort of looked like a flustered robot, but it was just A LOT to take in all at once.
CHAPTER SEVEN
I had to eventually give up trying to find a bright side to the bikini situation. Size-A boobs, giant scar across my chest, pale skin…there was no bright side other than the fact that I was pretty skinny and I had long legs. I adjusted the triangles over my boobs and then pushed them together one last time, forming a hint of cleavage. The moment I let go, the light pink material fell right back into place. I looked like a prepubescent boy.
“ C’mon Abby. The sun’s going down in twenty minutes!” Beck called.
“ Okay, okay. I’m coming.” I unzipped the tent flap and stepped out. Beck wasn’t busy doing “campy” things; he was standing there, watching me climb out, just as I had feared.
I had to concentrate painfully hard on each of my movements. Take one step out of the tent . Good . Now another. Turn and zip the tent. Yes, he’s looking at your ass .
His greenish hazel eyes were brazenly taking in my bikini body, only pausing for a moment over my scar. I had to say something to break the awkward moment.
“ God, if you stare any longer I’m not getting in that water with you.”
He laughed, thought for a second, and then cracked up at that, throwing his head back and clutching his stomach. I shoved him playfully with my hand, but as I moved to walk past him, he caught my hand again and pulled me back so I couldn’t keep walking.
I looked up into the green swirls around his irises and could tell he was on the cusp of revealing something. His dark eyebrows were pressed together. His lips were parted slightly and his gaze never wavered. But it didn’t last. I could see him pushing the thought aside before he formed a new one in its place.
“ You think you’re going in before me?” he asked with a goofy smile. He dropped my hand and raced past me toward the water.